He was wearing a thin black cotton robe and nothing else as far as she could tell. And she could almost feel the tension in his body as he came closer, bringing with him the scent of male heat and the tantalising freshness of a spicy male soap.
As he came to a standstill right beside where she lay she lifted her eyes to let them clash with his; hers were wary, questioning what this unexpected visit meant when really she knew exactly what it meant. The reality of it was already turning the very tissue of her being to a warm, sensual liquid because his eyes were hiding nothing—nothing.
Yet in silence he waited. Breathlessly she waited. Eyes locked. The tension between them was so fraught that she could almost taste it, even ran her tongue around parched lips as if to do just that.
When long moments passed and she had said not a word he bent down towards her, braced his hands on the pillow either side of her head and murmured softly, ‘Invite me to stay.’
Her senses quivered. ‘I…’ The sound came out frail and breathless—hardly a sound at all really as she found herself caught by the beauty of his sensually moulded mouth hovering a bare inch away from her own.
‘Please.’ He closed the gap and kissed her. It was nothing more than the gentlest touch of his mouth against her own, but her own lips clung as he drew away again.
‘Please,’ he repeated softly. ‘Please…’
At last she breathed, her breasts lifting and falling on the small, constricted action. But other than that she couldn’t manage another single thing. Yet…
Had she answered? she found herself wondering dizzily. She was vaguely certain that she hadn’t said yes, but was also sure that she hadn’t said no.
But whatever she did do César took it as an affirmative, because after a moment he whispered, ‘Thank you.’ Then he was straightening again, holding her gaze with his own darkly burning one as he unknotted and stripped off his robe, paused for a moment as if to give her a final opportunity to make a protest, jaw clenched, the rigid walls of his stomach clenched, his body already wearing the evidence of desire.
Then he lifted the edge of the thin sheet and in one fluid, graceful movement came to lie down beside her.
His fingers were trembling a little as he gently stroked them across her cheek and slid them beneath the heavy fall of her hair. Then he was drawing her towards him, turning her, moulding her, and slowly—oh, so slowly that her senses began to vibrate, her lips to pulse, part, gasp out a single shaky breath—he closed the gap between their mouths.
His lips were as full and pulsing as her own, both so hot that they seemed to fuse, the shock of it sending one of her hands jerking up to press against his chest.
He shuddered. It ran through him like a tidal wave, drawing a groan from him; then he was pushing her gently onto her back and coming with her, his upper body crushing her into the soft mattress as it pressed lightly down.
For a moment her courage failed, memories of that other hot violent eruption of passion making her gasp in shaky fear.
But he soothed her with a caressing hand. ‘No,’ he murmured, as if he knew exactly what had frightened her. ‘This is passion I am feeling for you, not angry desire. It runs through my blood like a fire, but it is not destructive. Some fires cleanse, Angelica,’ he told her softly. ‘I want to cleanse that other experience from your mind.’
Then he was kissing her again, and any hope of forming a conscious decision for herself was lost in the slow, deep sensuality of it.
It went on and on, not even breaking when he began to caress her, his hand sliding against the smooth silk of her nightdress in a long, sweeping motion that followed the delicacy of her ribcage, the flatness of her stomach and finally the length of her thighs where the nightdress ended and satin-smooth flesh began.
She must have moved restlessly because he instantly soothed her again, bringing his other hand out from beneath her head to lay it gently against her cheek.
And still the beautiful kiss did not break. Nor did it when he spent an age seemingly content to stroke her like that. He didn’t touch her intimately, didn’t even try to remove her nightdress, but simply played a kind of magic with her flesh, coaxing, gently coaxing the fine, light tremors to overtake her, and eventually her muscles to begin expanding and contracting to the sensual rhythm he induced.
In the end she couldn’t stand it, and dragged her mouth away from his with a sharp, helpless gasp for air. He let her go, his eyes almost sombre as they studied her, his hand pausing against the quivering flesh of her stomach.
‘What?’ he whispered. ‘What?’
She closed her eyes in confusion. Even his softly spoken voice was having the most overwhelming effect on her. ‘I don’t know,’ she breathed, panting a little in an effort to control what was happening inside her.
‘Then don’t try to think,’ he advised. ‘Just follow me. Trust me, Annie. And between us we will make this the most beautiful experience of our lives.’
Trust him. Follow him. She really did not have any choice. From the moment his mouth captured hers again she was lost—lost in the dark, sensual beauty of the man. Lost in what he could make
her feel, and lost in the wonder of what she could do to him.
It was slow and it was rich and it went very deep, each touch, each caress, each accidental brush of their skin heightening an awareness inside them that seemed to encapsulate the two of them in a hot, dark world of their own.
His touch became more intimate, knowing, sending her boneless so she lay there in helpless thrall. The caress of his tongue on her eager skin drew soft gasps of pleasure from her, the silk-like thrust of his throbbing manhood nudging against her thigh filling her with a sense of power that made her bold.
When she began caressing him he fell heavily onto his back, to lie blatant in his desire for more, eyes closed, mouth parted, his gasps of pleasure urging her on. His skin felt like tightly padded satin, the muscles beneath it rigid then rippling in response to her touch. She kissed his damp throat then his shoulder, then, unable to resist it, tasted his sweat on her tongue, trailing it over his chest until she found and began to suck on his tight male nipple.
His hands jerked up to grasp her head tightly, holding her there while he seemed to stop breathing, to go motionless as the sensations she was causing inside him took hold.